Mrs. Wood's anxiety grew so insupportable, that he seized his hat with the intention of sallying forth in search of them, though he did not know whither to bend his steps, when his departure was arrested by a gentle knock at the door. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom.
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